The Penn's Grove record., 1887-06-18
APPLE BLOSSOMS.


The Fruit a Member of the Great
Rose Family.
Nature worked lovingly when she
made apple blossoms. These petals
that come down softly all yer me are
the color of a baby's cheek, and that
is the lovingest thing in The world. L
do not see why people should plant
elms, and ash, and maple, for lawn
trees, and put apples in a back lot.
There is nothing like an apple tree for
gentleness; and a gentle tree among
trees is like a gentle man among men.
Their outlines are graceful, but never
formal; and their warm hearts are
either breaking out in smiles or golden
pipplns. When you want a perfect
front yard have a few apples; or, If you
want a fine lawn, mix apples with the
other trees.
The apple is a member of the great
rose family; s are the pears, peaches,
plums, cherries, aprlcots and the roses
and strawberries-all cousins. Did 1t
ever occur to you that there is Q sort OF
family look about these things3 To be
sure the blossoms are all of a likeness,
but hat is not all, they belong to a
class Of rosy, hearty, loving trunks that
never seem to have but two thoughts
to be as beautiful as possible and as
useful as possible. / like the rustic
simplicity Of orchard trees. They do
not have any fashionable ways.
Now, this special tree under which |
have my hammock is a dear old friend.
1t is an Indian Tareripe, six feet in
girth, and when it blossoms 1t is a vast
boquet, covering several square rods.
Apples it bears by the thousand, but
petals by the million. 1t stood here
seventy years ago and has a sound
heart yet. 1t wa planted by old SEQ
nondoah, the chleftain, and has MEM
! DRY, as trees go, that 1 should like to
recall.
There is one hollowlImb that squeaks
in the wind, and a squirrel has q family
in 1t. She does rot mind me at all,
but runs up and down the trunk on her
domestic duties, carrying a stolen bit
of corn or scolding her lazy spouse.
Some one has written a delightful book
on the Population of a Pear Tree"
One cannot begin to tell the curious
fellows that live under the bark or in
the body or on the fruit or tender twigs
of this tree of mine. The name is le-
gion. Just now a golden w~oodpecker
is running up and down, tapping here
and there, as if to say, Sweet worm.
are you at homer And with his sharp
bill he picks the locks and makes a call,
welcome or not welcome. Curious fell
lows, these woodpeckersI They know
that we are friends and do not fear us,
but perk up their heads with a jerk,
and chirp as IT to say, ''these fellows are
fat, and you don't know how good they
are" Robins are specially fond of the
rustic apple limbs for their mud cot
tages. Yellowhammerst take to hollowsin
timber and limbs. These holes are
curious places. If you wish to know
who is inside tap on the outside. Ii
yellowhammers are inside they will rap
in reply.
Suppose we gather a huge boquet Of
these flesh tinted blooms, and lying
down, place them lightly across the
face. Now shut your eyes; lay out your
hands on the satin turf, and drink n
the perfume. You will be pretty sure
to go to sleep; so it might be better to
climb into the hammock, But l want
you to observe the soothing power there
IS in this fragrance to lull your senses
to rest. 1 think that nearly all flowers
have a slight opiate effect. But while
you are awake you will see what a
wonderful sense is this Of smell. We
never quite bring 1t to its best. We
rather despise it; but even roses and
apple blossoms are not more than half
revealed to the eye.
The crabs and wild apples have the
finest flowers and the richest odors.
But when it comes to fruit it Is the
smaller blossoms that show where the
big apples are to be. Then it takes
about ten to twenty blossoms to make
a single Northern Spy or a B%elleheur;
but one blossom makes a crab. l mean
that nature, when she proposes to exert
herself for quality sacrifices quantity.
She throws away nearly all the bloom
of the Spy and concentrates the energy
of fruitiDg ON q few select specimens.
But Is the only end of the tree to bear
fruit. No; nor the end of human life.
It is to blossom in sweetness and love;
to give Joy, and poems, and pean, and
life of soul. So my blessed apple is this
day feeding me with blessed thoughts
and sweet memories. What else did
Emerson mean when he sung:
one harvest from Jour field,
Homeward brought your oxen str9ngi
But another crop your acres yield,
Which | gather IN a song.
Cut an apple through into thin,
smooth slices and hold them up to h
sun. All about the core you will see
spread out the form of the blossom.
The apple is only the swollen oyary OF
the blossom. So a strawberry Is an
enlarged ovary carrying the seeds out
upon it; but the raspberry, you see, is a
swelling Of the seed enclosure, and so
is the blackberry. If II could go
back to the origin of the rose family
and see a little, puny potentilia grow
ing under foot, how little would he be
able to imagine the glorious future Of
the despised weed. Yet that stock has,
by the slow process of evolution, during
at least 100000 years, ended in our
glorious apples, pears, peaches and
roses, as well as most delicious berries.
Who can tell what future possibilities
Will be developed out of the weeds of
to-day? The evolution of the apple is
now simple, for nan has taken charge
Of its improvements; but for ages it
was a hard struggle. The finer flowers
drew the most insects, to help in cross
fertilization; but the finer flowers pro-
duced the poorer apples. On the other
hand the better fruits drew the eye of
birds and cattle, and so got planted.
On the whole the battle was in favor
Of flowers. Yes there were apples good
enough to eat as long ago as when the
lberians built lake dwelling in Europe
probably 10000 years ago-and We
lind charred specimens in their kitchen
waste.
"WHAT do we have a weeks yaca-
ton in the Spring for?" asked one lit